Chapter 6 | Robin
The crowd dispersed from William Elder’s estate, but only so they could go round up their friends for the exciting upcoming event.
Will Scarlet would be fighting Initiate Brandt, a Templar Knight.
I shivered at the thought. There was no way this could end well. If Will won, we would make the Templar Knights our enemies, and they were much too powerful to take on with our measly gang, or even with the Oak Boys alliance. If Will lost, well . . . I didn’t want to think about that.
I couldn’t lose Will to this nonsense. I knew it wasn’t nonsense to him, yet I also knew bloodshed was not the answer.
The duel would take place in the village square in an hour, once the morning fog dissipated.
Friar Tuck went to speak with Will first, crowding the younger man and scolding Rosco and Griff for not standing by their leader while he argued with Sir Charles and Initiate Brandt. I couldn’t hear much of their conversation, twenty paces away, but I didn’t need to: Will’s body language spoke volumes. He was guarded, tense, and closed-off.
I glowered up at Little John. “Are you happy you stopped me, John? I should have intervened!”
Little John had the decency to look shamefaced, wincing and rubbing the back of his neck. “Aye, I’m thinking you’re right. I apologize, little star. It’s a force of habit.”
I opened my mouth to argue. Then closed it. Force of habit . . . to protect me. How can I be angry about that?
As usual, Little John made it nearly impossible to stay incensed at him. I knew I was only projecting my rage, because Will was the one who, as usual, was getting under my skin.
“What do we do?” I asked him.
“You’re the leader of the Merry Men, Robin. That’s your call. Perhaps speak with your brother.”
My brother, I noticed, had vanished. I could have sworn he was there during the argument, but now he was nowhere to be seen.
Furrowing my brow, I looked downhill toward the village center, and spotted Robert speaking with a few of the peasants. I massaged my chin, wondering what he was doing.
“I suppose that’s how he has such a good rapport with the people here,” John said, joining me to watch Robert converse with the townsfolk. “He’s more concerned with their wellbeing than he is a pointless fight.”
“It’s not a pointless fight to Will.”
“Sounds like you’re edging for him to do it.”
I flared my nostrils. “I’m not! It’s just . . . I understand his predicament. Would you stand down if it was your father’s estate being illegally stolen from you?”
Little John’s face darkened. “It’s wise not to ask that question of me, little hope. Because my answer is not as constructive as you might hope.”
I swallowed hard, guilt washing over me. “Fair enough. I’m sorry—”
“I understand your meaning, though. Which is why you are most suited to speak with Will. Not me. He will listen to you.”
“He listens to no one, that aggravating man.”
John sighed, glancing over his shoulder at Will, who was yelling at Friar Tuck now. “I suppose you’re right. More likely to listen to you, then.”
I rolled my eyes, then pushed past him. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I meandered over to Will. When I reached their semi-circle, I eyed Rosco, then Griff, then Tuck, and finally Will. “What are we all talking about?” I asked lightly, trying to cut through the tension.
Will scowled. “Don’t try to dissuade me from doing this, little thorn.”
“Good to see you, too.”
His scowl remained on his pretty face. Curls of dark hair rustled in the morning breeze as his bright, uncanny blue eyes drilled into me. His full lips were firm. He was not in the mood for levity, which I should have expected.
“I won’t try to discourage you from the duel,” I said, shrugging. “I understand your father’s estate means a lot to you. I am sorry he is gone, and that I was not here with you.”
I reached out and put a gentle hand on his arm, which he looked down at. His intensity softened, and some of the tension in his shoulders and arms mellowed. “He went peacefully,” he said with a sigh. “It was his time.”
My hand rose from his arm to his cheek, where I cupped his warm skin. Will was freshly shaved, and more beautiful than ever. “You shouldn’t have to deal with such a thing so soon after losing someone you held close. I’m sorry—”
“Stop saying you’re sorry. This wasn’t your fault.”
His head bowed a fraction.
I dipped my head to meet his—Will and I were nearly the same height—and kissed him on the lips. Surprising him, for sure, but definitely surprising the others.
Rosco and Griff shifted their weight, and Friar Tuck cleared his throat. The awkwardness they all felt watching me press my lips to Will’s must have been immediate. For some reason that awkwardness felt gratifying.
I pulled back. “Boys, if you’ll let me talk with Will in private, please?”
Tuck bowed his head. “Of course, little heathen.”
He turned to leave . . . and then realized Rosco was smirking at me and Griff was staring at me like I had parted the seas.
Tuck sighed, slapped Griff upside the head, and snagged Rosco’s shirt sleeve. “Come on, you rapscallions. Leave them to it.”
With that, they wandered off. Just in case anyone felt like prying, I looped my arm in Will’s and walked off with him, toward a thick copse of trees in the distance, past his father’s estate.
As we walked, Will talked. “You said you won’t try to dissuade me, Robin, yet I feel a but coming. And you’re walking me into the woods.”
“Are the woods not our happy place?” I asked. My throat felt thick, abruptly, and my lips curled into a wicked smile that would have impressed Will in any other situation. “Where we’ve done our best . . . work?”
At that, he smiled. Finally. He stared at the ground, likely reminiscing. “The Grinning Oak. The campsites. I suppose you’re right.”
We fell silent, our boots snapping twigs and dry leaves as we made it to the trees where we could be concealed.
I had half a mind to thrust myself upon Will, spread my legs, and let him have his way with me against the nearest tree trunk. Lord knew it would be one way to get him to relieve his frustrations . . .
Except I knew this situation was more than something that could be solved with sex. More than frustration brewed inside him. It was a deep hatred for authority, for the law of the land, and for bullies who tried to get away with despicable things. Will Scarlet wouldn’t stand for it, and, frankly, neither would I.
“The look in your eyes tells me you want me to fuck you until you can’t walk right, little thorn,” he rumbled, stepping close to me and wrapping his arm around my back.
“The idea crossed my mind.”
“But?”
“It goes back to the other but you spoke of. I don’t want to dissuade you, love. I want to make you think.”
“I’m always thinking, Robin. It’s half my problem.”
“Aye. But think of this: What happens after your duel, and you’re victorious?”
“My father’s estate falls to me. I give it to Ravenshead, as I said I would. Initiate Brandt is dead. Everyone’s happy.”
I tilted my head, my fingers walking up his chest to the base of his neck. When he swallowed, I watched his throat bob and then gently wrapped my hand around the column of his neck.
“Remember when you choked me, Will?”
“Every time,” he said, his voice little more than a groan. “What are you playing at, thorn? Because my cock is harder than a blacksmith’s anvil, when I should be thinking about battle strategy. You’re making this, erm, harder than it needs to be.”
I unleashed my hand from his neck and he inhaled raggedly. A sense of something I wasn’t used to rushed through me—like a mix of headiness and need. Darkness, even, as I imagined tightening my hold on his neck until his veins popped and his brilliant sapphire eyes bulged in fear.
I have never caused that kind of fear in anyone.
Blinking, the gruesome thought faded. I furrowed my brow.
What the hell am I thinking? What was that about?
“You okay, lass?” he asked, concern etched in his voice.
I nodded with a shallow breath. “Aye. Uh. I’m fine. I had a point I was trying to make.”
He smirked that smug little smirk of his, which always got my blood boiling. He knew just how to get to me.
“Which is?” he asked.
I thought through the fog in my brain, then snapped my fingers. “Choking. You think if you kill Initiate Brandt, this will be over? You heard the older one. They have a writ of ownership—whatever the fuck that is. It sounds official. Which means he truly does have the law on his side. There are no good ways this can end, Will, and you know it. The Templar Knights will return. Maybe not tomorrow, or even this month. But they’ll be back . . . and when they do, they’ll choke the life out of this hamlet and everyone in it.”
I took a deep breath, my heart beating faster. It throbbed against my throat, even as I looked at his and just wanted to take a bite out of him.
The invasive thought sent me spinning, and I stepped back.
Will Scarlet said nothing for a long time. He simply watched my face, his concerned expression flattening.
He needs to come to this decision himself. He spoke abruptly, making that challenge in a moment of rage—as he’s keen to do. All I can do is offer a rebuttal, even if I don’t have any great alternatives.
To win in this world, we must make terrible sacrifices, I thought, trying to steel myself for the chiding I expected. Tough decisions that no one wants to make, such as letting his father’s honey farm go. A farm that Will, honestly, didn’t frequent very often, and would likely mean very little to him if it weren’t for the man who’d lived in it.
“You know I’m right, Will,” I said, growing exasperated that he had nothing to say in his defense. “Just like the Merry Men, the Templar Knights won’t forget their own. Especially if you kill the lad. They’ll—”
“The Templars are nothing like the Merry Men, Robin. You may be right—I can’t argue with the logic of your words—but logic has no place here. Not where my family is concerned. You expect me to back down and let these outsiders stomp all over my home?”
I bit my bottom lip, giving Will a pleading look with my eyes. I knew I couldn’t stop him, yet I had to try. “What kind of a leader would I be if I didn’t at least make you think of the consequences, love?” My voice cracked at the end. “I—”
A shadow moved behind Will, startling the life out of me. It was so swift I nearly missed it, and wondered if a squirrel hopped across that branch behind him or—
No. Too big to be a squirrel!
“Will!” I screamed.
His eyes bulged and his hands went up for his swords, just as he prepared to spin around.
He was going to be too late—
So I shoved him with all my might, to the side, without thinking.
Will stumbled off, not quite falling over—
As a sword hacked through the branch behind him with a wicked snap. It slashed into the space where he’d just been and vibrated the very air in a great overhand arc.
I stepped forward, still acting on instinct and reflexes, and my hand darted to my waist.
The sword pulled back for another swing—
Just as I yanked a dagger from my hip sheath, stepped into the shadow’s guard, and stabbed head-high into the darkness, all in one fluid motion.
My blade sank into soft flesh.
A gurgle. A gasp. Wide eyes staring down at me. Blood spilling down my knuckles, over my wrist and arm.
I stared into the wide, startled eyes of Initiate Brandt. The whites were so big I could see into his soul. I recognized the fear there, the life spilling out of him, the regret, the confusion—
And I reveled in it.
For a flash of time, a grin sliced my lips as I watched the man spit blood bubbles and struggle to stay standing, his hand going to his throat as I pulled my blade out. More blood spurted.
Sick darkness took hold of me, like an extreme blooming of the odd sensation I’d felt just moments before when I’d had my hand around Will’s throat and daydreamed of all the ways I could end him.
Unlike Will, I wanted this man to die. And I wanted his death to be brutal and painful, like all the deaths I was sure he had been responsible for.
“Robin!” Will cried out, and pushed me aside to take my place in front of the man.
I stumbled onto my ass, blinking, stretching my arms behind me to catch myself, and stared up in horror as the dripping dagger fell from my hand.
Will backpedaled, knees bent, as Brandt staggered forward out of the trees, into the small clearing. Bleeding like a stuck pig, and making similar sounds, too. Tears poured down his cheeks, mixing with his bloody handprints where he held the fatal wound I’d scored on his neck.
Brandt looked at Will one more time, shook his head, tried to say something, and failed. He burst a bubble of blood from his lips, gasped, and collapsed in a heap in front of us.
I crab-walked backward, snapping out of my sinister reverie. With a yelp, I stared down in shock at the dead Templar Knight. His cloak billowed down slower than the rest of him, only finally coating his body like a carriage tarp, hiding the worst of the damage from us.
I croaked past dry lips.
Will stared down at me, wide-eyed, and reached out to take my hand. I stumbled to my feet, and wrapped my arms around him in a hug.
“What . . . what have I just done?”
Tears spilled from my eyes.
Will Scarlet tangled his hand in my hair, pulling me close. He put his cheek against my forehead and coddled me, consoled me, as we embraced. “You saved my life, little thorn.”
He seemed almost as surprised as I felt.
Memories of my past failures swarmed through me. This was not how this was supposed to go!
I had to fight to keep them stuffed down. To remind myself this wasn’t our doing, and bad luck happened to even the most well-intentioned people.
I didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know how to leave these trees, especially after everything I had just told Will.
Initiate Brandt had come to try and end the duel before it even began. He must have watched us escape into the thicket and calculated he could assassinate both of us and be done with it.
My mind whirled. Does Sir Charles know what Brandt planned? Is he privy to Brandt’s deceit? What will happen once we return to the village? We’re both too distraught to act like nothing happened.
I looked down at my trembling hands. Bright red blood seeped through my fingers. I swallowed again, harder, then clenched my eyes and wished this would all go away.
A shudder ran through me.
It wasn’t even Initiate Brandt’s blood or death that struck me the most. Any death impacted me, of course, but this was different.
Because this time, I realized with hideous fascination . . . I enjoyed watching him die.